The bar wasn't her usual scene. She preferred quiet spots where she could blend in and let the buzz of conversation wash over her, but Fin had insisted on dragging her here for some charity thing. "Just an hour," Fin had said. "Drink something, smile at someone, and I promise it won't kill you."

An hour had turned into two, and Olivia was nursing the dregs of her second glass of wine when she saw him. He'd been standing near the silent auction table, flipping through his phone, but something about him caught her eye. Maybe it was the way his dark suit fit him—tailored but not flashy—or the faint touch of grey at his temples that suggested a maturity Olivia often found missing in men her age. Whatever it was, when his gaze met hers, she felt it—a spark of something she hadn't felt in a long time. Interest.

He smiled, and it wasn't the kind of smile men used to try and charm their way into her life. It was unassuming, genuine—the kind of smile that said, I see you.

She turned back to her wine and told herself not to read into it.

But a moment later, he was standing beside her. "Not much of a silent auction person either?" he asked, gesturing toward the tables where overpriced gift baskets and spa weekends were displayed.

She glanced at him, surprised by how close he was. "Not really my thing," she said, keeping her tone light.

"Mine either," he admitted. "I'm just here because my sister roped me into buying a ticket." He extended a hand. "I'm Daniel."

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. "Olivia."

His handshake was warm, firm but not overpowering. When he released her hand, he leaned just slightly closer. "Tell me, Olivia, what would you rather be doing right now?"

The question caught her off guard, and for a moment she considered brushing him off. But there was something disarming about him, something that made her want to stay in this moment just a little longer.

"Honestly?" she said. "Sleeping."

He laughed, a low, genuine sound. "Fair enough. But since you're already here, maybe I could convince you to make the most of it?"

The conversation flowed easily after that. He wasn't pushy, wasn't trying to impress her with stories about himself or ask her prying questions. They talked about the fundraiser, the overpriced cocktails, and the absurdity of some of the auction items. For once, Olivia didn't feel like she had to keep her guard up.

By the time she left, she had his number saved in her phone and a small, cautious smile tugging at her lips.

Later that night, Olivia sat on her couch, her phone resting in her palm. Daniel's number glowed on the screen, a silent challenge. It was tempting to just hit send, to take a chance, but something held her back. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been excited to meet someone. It wasn't that she didn't want companionship; she craved it more than she was willing to admit. But hope had become a dangerous thing. Hope had a way of building you up just enough to make the fall hurt more.

She shifted on the couch, trying to shake off the uncertainty that had settled in. She'd been burned before, by people she'd trusted, by relationships that had started with promise and ended in disappointment. The walls she'd built over the years were sturdy—too sturdy, maybe—but they had kept her safe. For a long time, they'd been all she needed. But tonight, there was a crack. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there, and it left her wondering if it was worth it to break down the walls, even just for a moment.

Still, something about Daniel felt different. His quiet confidence, the way he didn't press too hard, the way he'd looked at her as though he actually saw her. Maybe it was the softness in his eyes or the way he seemed to genuinely care about what she had to say. Whatever it was, it was enough to make her hesitate, to make her want to give this a chance.

Her thumb hovered over the screen before she finally set the phone down and leaned back with a sigh. She closed her eyes, her thoughts spinning. For years, she'd told herself that work was enough. That her job was where she belonged, where she could make a difference. But maybe, just this once, she could let herself wonder if there could be more. Maybe she could allow herself to believe that a life outside of the precinct, a life with someone who saw her for who she truly was, wasn't as impossible as she'd convinced herself it was.

With a small breath, she picked up the phone again. She was ready to find out.

"She left early today," Elliot muttered as he leaned back in his chair at the kitchen table, his eyes staring at the cup of coffee in front of him but seeing nothing.

Kathy looked up from her tea, raising an eyebrow in mild curiosity. "Who did?"

"Liv," Elliot said. "Didn't even stick around to finish her paperwork. That's not like her."

Kathy's lips quirked in a small smile, as if she'd been waiting for this moment. "Maybe she had plans."

"Plans?" Elliot frowned, the furrow in his brow deepening. "She doesn't—" He stopped himself before finishing the sentence. He could already hear how it would sound: that Olivia didn't do anything outside of work, that her life was nothing but cases and paperwork. But that wasn't true, not anymore. He just wasn't sure when it had started to change.

Kathy gave him a pointed look, her eyes sharp with a mix of affection and mild irritation. "What? Have a life outside of work? She's not a machine, El. She's allowed to go out once in a while."

"I didn't mean it like that," he said quickly, running a hand over his face in frustration. "It's just...I don't know. She's been distracted lately."

Kathy set her tea down with a deliberate slowness, folding her hands in front of her as if preparing to dig into the heart of the matter. "Distracted how?"

Elliot hesitated, searching for the right words. It wasn't like Olivia to seem off-kilter, but recently, there was something about her that had changed. He didn't like it.

"I can't put my finger on it," he admitted, his voice low, almost reluctant to say the words out loud. "She's been quieter than usual, a little...I don't know. Different."

"Maybe different is good," Kathy offered, her tone light, almost teasing, though there was a layer of concern under it. "If she's meeting someone or trying something new, isn't that what you've wanted for her? To find some kind of happiness?"

Elliot stared at the table, his fingers tapping an erratic rhythm on the wood. The truth stung more than he wanted to admit. He had spent so many years wishing Olivia could find something outside of the job, something to give her the happiness he knew she deserved. But now that it felt like that happiness was finally within reach, it didn't sit right. He could feel a knot tightening in his chest, the old protective instinct flaring up again.

He couldn't help the words that escaped him, even if they felt unnecessary. "I just don't want her to get hurt."

Kathy's expression softened, but there was a slight edge to her voice when she spoke next. "Liv's a big girl. She knows what she's doing."

Elliot nodded absently, but the unease didn't leave him. In fact, it only deepened. He couldn't quite place it, but something about the way Olivia had been acting recently unsettled him. There was a distance in her, a subtle shift that he couldn't shake. His thoughts drifted back to the whole mess with Brian Cassidy. Olivia had been quieter than usual then, too—distant in a way that had caught his attention. But this time felt different. Then, there had been a vulnerability to her, an openness that he hadn't known what to do with. He'd noticed immediately when she'd come into the precinct the morning after, her eyes a little brighter, her smile a little more elusive. It didn't take a detective to figure out why. He'd teased her a little, and she'd sheepishly brushed it off, but he could tell she appreciated the unspoken understanding. That had been the Olivia he knew—a little awkward, a little guarded, but still letting someone in, even if only just a little. This was not that.

This time, there was something harder about her. A calmness that didn't feel like the usual Liv. Like she was...settling into something, maybe even enjoying it. It wasn't the same tentative step forward he'd seen with Cassidy. It was more confident, more sure—and that was what had his guard up. The last few weeks, he'd seen her smile more easily, laugh a little louder, and for the first time in a long while, Olivia Benson seemed like she was really, truly living outside the job.

But what bothered him wasn't her happiness—it was why it felt so different this time. Was it really just her? Or was it something else? Something that made him feel like he was losing her in a way he didn't fully understand.

His mind spun. Was he right to feel this way, or was it just his protectiveness rearing its head? He'd always been there for Olivia—more than a partner, more than a friend, but not in a way that was ever too much. They were two sides of the same coin, always in sync, always covering each other's backs. But now, every time she laughed a little too loudly or leaned a little too comfortably into someone else's presence, a knot tightened in his chest.

It was stupid. He knew it. But still, the feeling lingered. Was it his concern for her safety, for her well-being, or was it something else altogether?

Elliot gave a small, forced laugh. "I know. She deserves to be happy."

But as he spoke, his mind flickered again to the way Olivia had smiled down at her phone earlier that day. It hadn't been the kind of smile he was used to. This was something else, something brighter, and damn it, something that felt like it wasn't meant for him.

Kathy, oblivious to the spiral in his thoughts, picked up her tea again and took a slow sip. "She's her own person. Whatever happens is up to her, not you. Let go, El. For her sake, and for yours."

Elliot's chest tightened, but he kept his eyes on his coffee cup, as though the swirling liquid held answers he couldn't find. Admitting to Kathy that his concern for Olivia ran deeper than professional obligation wasn't an option—not because she wouldn't understand, but because he barely understood it himself.

"I know, Kath. I just...I guess I'm worried," he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

Kathy tilted her head, her expression softening. "It's sweet that you're worried about her, El. But she's a grown woman. She'll figure it out in her own time."

He didn't respond immediately, the words sticking in his throat. Olivia didn't need him to look out for her—she never had. But the tightness in his chest didn't ease, the protective instinct fighting for space alongside something he couldn't quite name. Was it jealousy? Or just worry, like he kept telling himself? Either way, he wasn't about to share those thoughts with Kathy.

Instead, he muttered, "Yeah, you're probably right."

Kathy gave him a smile, but it felt distant, like she didn't entirely understand what was going on in his head. He wasn't sure she ever could.

"Of course I am," she said with a laugh, "You're a great partner to her, El. But let her breathe a little. It's not your job to make sure she's okay all the time."

Elliot forced a smile and nodded, but it didn't reach his eyes. Kathy didn't know, couldn't know, how much more complicated things had become between him and Olivia. It wasn't just about being her partner anymore, not for him. But he couldn't tell her that.

And so, he nodded again, the conversation skimming the surface of something he wasn't sure he could face.